My Agent’s Mistake: A Tale of Unplanned Detours

I slammed the phone down, my anger simmering just below the surface. “What do you mean I was sent to the wrong place?” I demanded, my voice firm and commanding.

“The shipper made an error, darling,” my agent replied, his tone laced with a hint of apology. “You were supposed to go to Charlotte, not Miami.”

“I don’t pay you to make excuses,” I snapped, my patience wearing thin. “I expect to be paid for my trip down here, the layover, and wherever they decide to send me. I’m running a business, not a charity.”

“Just sit tight and I’ll see what I can do,” my agent placated, his tone soothing.

I hung up, still fuming. Four days stuck at the Pilot Truck stop was four days too long. I’d spent my time catching up on truck maintenance, cleaning, and watching Netflix reruns. I was going stir-crazy.

I needed a break, and I was going to take one. I packed a small bag with a towel, my swimsuit, sunscreen, and a good book to read. Thirty minutes later, I was at the beach, the warm Miami sun on my skin a welcome respite from the stress of the past few days.

I made my way to the nearest public restroom and into one of the changing rooms. Ah, the joys of public facilities. I pulled my wavy blonde hair up into a bun, shed my shirt, and unclasped my bra. My breasts breathed a sigh of relief as I slipped on a black bikini top. I slid down my running pants, exposing my unshaven vagina to the group of teenagers strolling by.

“Wow,” I muttered to myself, “maybe I should have shaved before I came here.” But I wasn’t out to impress anyone. I applied sunscreen all over my small body, feeling the warm sun soak into my skin.

I took a deep breath, calming myself before grabbing my things and stepping out into the sun. I’d never worn anything like this in public before. Raised in an extremely conservative family, this attire was a bold move for me.

I let my hair down, pulled it away from my face, and walked out into the sun, feeling a sense of liberation wash over me. I made a beeline for the beach, found a spot that wasn’t too crowded, and laid out my blanket.

I spent a few hours soaking up the sun, admiring the eye candy around me. College hunks, shirtless and bronzed, were a sight to behold. I pulled out my book and began reading, losing myself in the words on the page.

As the day wore on, I got thirsty and packed up my things, heading for a beach bar not too far away. I sat at the bar, ordered a Margarita, and attempted to continue reading my book over the blaring music and screaming college students.

Just as I was finishing up my drink, a man approached me, his eyes fixed on my tattoo. “I absolutely love your tattoo,” he said, his voice charming. “If I didn’t have commitment issues, I’d be covered in them.”

I laughed awkwardly, and he asked if he could buy me a drink. I agreed, and he ordered a daiquiri for himself and a rum and Coke for me. We chatted for a bit, exchanging stories and getting to know each other.

“So, what brings you to Miami all by your lonesome?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“I’m a truck driver,” I replied, “there was a mix-up with my load and I was sent here by mistake. I’m waiting for word on what to do next.”

“Damn,” he said, “I would have pegged you for a lot of things, but a truck driver was most-definitely not one of them.”

“Oh?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You seem too pretty to be living on the road,” he said, his voice tinged with a hint of surprise.

“I like to keep people on their toes,” I replied, a smile spreading across my face.

As the sun began to set, he asked if I’d like to go to dinner. I was a little taken aback, but he suggested ordering room service in his room instead. I agreed, and we headed to the elevator, my heart racing with excitement.

His room was simple, but nice, with a balcony overlooking the beach. We sat down at the desk, and I started searching for the menu. As I was calling out entrees, he bent down to kiss my neck, his hands sliding over my breasts and untying my bikini.

“Why don’t we skip dinner and go to dessert?” he whispered, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

I wasn’t about to let him take control, but he was persuasive. I spun the chair around, pushed him onto the bed, and climbed on top of him. We kissed, our bodies entwined as we explored each other’s desires.

He stopped long enough to fling me onto the bed, take his shirt off, and get on top of me. I felt his hands sliding down my bikini bottom, exploring my unshaven pussy. When his hands got to my blonde mound, he stopped kissing me, gave me a puzzled look, and said, “It’s refreshing for a woman to be natural down there.”

I slid his swim trunks down, flung him back on the bed, and took his massive cock in my hand. It was a good eight and a half inches long and pretty thick. I had a knack for sucking dick, and I didn’t have a gag reflex, so I could take his whole member in my mouth like it was nothing.

As I was sucking his cock, he reached over and pulled out a condom, applied it to his member, and got on top of me. I started kissing him as I guided his cock into my vagina. It had been years since I’d had sex, so I was practically a virgin again.

I felt the pressure inside my vagina growing as his cock slid deeper and deeper into me until I’d taken the whole thing. After a few minutes, I started pumping his dick like a piston. The neighbors would definitely hear me screaming as I fucked him.

He gagged me with a pair of his used boxers, and I went wild, my body responding to the pleasure. I could tell by the expression on his face that he was ready to explode. I pulled myself off his rod, yanked off the condom, and began sucking his dick. Within seconds, he exploded, spurt after spurt of warm, salty seed flowing into my mouth and down my throat.

I went up to kiss him, and he threw me on my back, spread my legs, and started devouring my pussy. This was the first time the pain from sex had set in, but that didn’t stop me from orgasming multiple times as he caressed my hairy vagina with his tongue.

After the third orgasm, he laid in bed next to me and kissed me. “Wow,” was all he could say.

“So… about dinner?” I asked, smiling.

He laughed and walked to get the menu, still hard as a rock. We called the desk and ordered hamburgers and fries. Twenty minutes later, the room service boy came, and I used a pillow to cover my breasts. My lover opened the door in a pair of boxers that did nothing to hide his massive erection.

After the room service boy left, we began eating. “So, I know it seems kinda late for this, but I never caught your name,” I asked, smiling.

“My name is Brian,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

After dinner, Brian and I took a shower and then he drove me back to the truck stop. I showed him around the truck, a simple sleeper in a Peterbilt 589. He was impressed, and we exchanged numbers. I made sure to hit him up anytime I was passing by FSU, which I did, many times.